Arden
by Hope12
Summary: Set in the universe of ‘the Legend of Harry Potter’ this is the story of one of the most important characters, Arden. What drove him to become the mass murderer that he does. Why does he help some people and destroy others? Who is Arden really?


**Arden **

**Chapter one: Larnelle's Piano**

* * *

This is Arden's story as told by him. He is a particularly interesting character from the Legends universe that will be playing a very large role in that story.

This is not going to be perfect, Arden is a genius and I am not. There for it is going to be difficult for me to write this as I am writing from the point of view of some one who is far beyond me.

Arden is inspired partly from the character Erik in 'The Phantom of the Opera' and also Jarod in 'The Pretender'.

The lullaby in this story is not a real lullaby or a real song.

_Harry Potter does not belong to me._

* * *

My name is Arden Corbett Malfoy and this is my story. I was born to Cash and Larnelle Malfoy when my family were still emperors and the world was still there empire.

My first years were spent oblivious to the coming storms that would destroy everything that I loved. My mother loved me very much and spoiled me. My father though not a loving man was proud of me, I was very confidant and it was well known that I was exceptional.

I was a precocious child, unusually so and my Father would often brag of my abilities. I was able to read thick books on the theory of magic (as well as many other subjects) by the time I was three and my father believed it was a good sign of what my magical ability would one day be. He could not have been more wrong.

My mother used to play music for me on the piano in her room, the piano that had been a gift from my father. I enjoyed then, hearing the story of how he had given it to her as a wedding gift and how they had spent there first hours together as man and wife sitting on the stool playing music together. She would tell me about those days with a far away look in her eyes, and I knew that those days were long over for her.

I was mesmerised by how her fingers moved on the keys. It was she who taught me my first scales and pieces, which were some of the most precious gifts ever given to me. However something changed my father in those first few years of my life. It was not long after I was born that my grandfather died. My father took his place as Emperor and brought his twin sister Armine back from her prison on the other side of the world. How my mother hated her. She did all she could but she could not prevent her husband from drifting away from her.

Armine made no secret of her dislike of my mother and even at that age I can remember it. I can remember the fights also. My normally gentle mother would scream and wail at my father when he would once again take my aunts side. I believe that my father did love my mother but Armine was his twin sister and their bond was too strong. He was never able to see her manipulations and he hated my mother for trying to bring them to his attention.

My mother did not want Armine present at Cecil's birth. But once again my father took my aunts side. He was away with some of his inner circle and he had left Armine in charge. I remember my mother crying in the week leading up to her labour. She held me in her arms one day and refused to let go. It frightened me because I did not understand. I did not understand then as I do now that she was afraid for her life. I had yet to be exposed to death. And the idea of murder was still foreign to me.

I do remember how she grasped on to me and told me that she loved me. I told her that I loved her too. Then I played one of her favourite pieces, I could not understand why it didn't make her feel any better. I did not know it would be the last time I would ever see her alive.

I was four years old when my younger brother was born. Armine was the only person present at his birth and she did the delivery herself. I remember that day very well. It has been burned into my memory. I can still here the baby's cries in my head, and how my aunt ran out screaming and crying that the empress was dead, false tears leaking from her eyes.

The castle was quickly in a panic with people rushing left and right. No body noticed me as I snuck into her room. It did not take me long to understand what death was in a way that no book could explain. I held her limp hand in mine and kissed her pale sunken cheek. But then the strong arms grabbed hold of me and dragging me away from her. I was locked in my room. I have never cried so much again.

I could barely sleep that first night; my mother had always tucked me in. She liked to sing to me before kissing me good night. But it wasn't just grief that I felt, it was also fear. I knew that I was all alone in the world. I understood that if I was to survive I needed to be careful. Or I would be next.

_I'll sing to you this lullaby_

_About the stars that shine at night_

_Little diamonds in the sky_

_Twinkling brightly far away_

_Dream my child as you sleep_

_Of little lights that fly at night_

_And when one day the darkness goes _

_And you, my child, play in the day_

_I'll sing to you this lullaby_

_As we look at the sparkling sky_

_So wait my child for the day_

_When the muggles, go away_

_And we will dance in pure light_

_A clean world that has stars at night_

_So sing for me this lullaby_

_About the stars that shine at night_

_Little diamonds in the sky_

_Twinkling brightly, far away._


End file.
